


Beneath The Surface

by Oricalle



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Angst, Drowning, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heroes crossover, It's Big Sad, Murder, Original Character Death(s), Water metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 09:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21426235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oricalle/pseuds/Oricalle
Summary: Minerva learns a secret about her new wingmate in the Order.  Camilla struggles with what's left of herself.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	Beneath The Surface

**Author's Note:**

> CW: This story contains a scene in which a young Camilla commits a murder. I do not at all mean to sensationalize something so vile, but as an aspect of Camilla's backstory, I thought it needed to be included.
> 
> If you do not feel comfortable reading something with this content, please do not feel bad about skipping this one. It's not graphic, no worse than what you'd find in something like The Hunger Games, really, but I want to emphasize my readers' safety and comfort over all else. <3

The gentle sound of rushing water greets Minerva as she groggily wakes, slowly peeling her back off of the ground. She’s spent her fair share of evenings camped out in the dirt, but Askr is different from Macedon. It’s different from Archanea. Everything from the feel of the grass to the smell of the soil is slightly off, and while she doesn’t mind, Minerva suspects that her body hasn’t quite gotten used to it yet. That is, judging by the lack of light streaming through the tent flaps. It isn’t quite morning. Curious as to how her wingmate is faring, she slowly turns to check on Camilla. However, she isn’t there, only an empty sleeping bag.

This is out of the ordinary.

Camilla is one of the heaviest sleepers Minerva has ever met. In their time with the Order, Minerva has been forced to undergo the arduous task of trying to wake her up several times, and the feat never gets any easier. The seeds of worry start to sprout in Minerva’s stomach. She pulls herself out of her own sleeping bag and rises to her feet, shaking the sleep from her eyes. Hefting Hauteclere from its resting place in the corner of the tent, she pushes the burlap flaps out of the way and peers outside.

No vengeful assassins or bloodthirsty beasts await her, but a quiet field somehow still churns her stomach. Minerva is far from a worrywart, but no information somehow feels worse than bad information here. Her guard doesn’t drop as she steps outside, letting the cool night breeze toss her unkempt hair. Despite a full moon’s illuminating presence, she can’t see anything out on the plains they’re camping on. Carefully, she turns around and finds herself gazing out at the lake behind the tent.

It’s a scene that someone more artistically minded would likely describe as “picturesque” or “aesthetically pleasing”, but “beautiful” suffices in Minerva’s case. A waterfall tumbles down into the small lake before passing into one of Askr’s rivers, creating a moment of bizarre calm in nature’s wild clutches. It’s dark enough that Minerva cannot see the other side of the lake, but she does see a shadowed figure sitting at the water’s edge.

Tightening her hands around Hauteclere’s handle, she stalks forward, keeping her head low and her shoulders tensed, ready to lash out at any sudden ambush. Cricket songs and crunching grass are the only sounds that accompany the falling water’s rush, though, and as she approaches the figure, its features come into view. That long violet hair can only be Camilla’s.

Relief rushes through Minerva’s body as she exhales. There is no threat here tonight. Still, it is odd that her wingmate would be out like this. Curiosity pushes the princess forward as she walks towards Camilla, abandoning any pretense of stealth. Her approach must be audible now, but Camilla doesn’t turn around.

“Hey. Can’t sleep?” Minerva offers as she walks up to Camilla’s side. The other woman shakes her head before turning, a wide smile on her face.

“No, dear, just...thinking a bit. Get your rest.”

As much as Minerva wants things to end there, something is nagging at her brain. Camilla’s expression is warm, but her countenance is faltering, as if it was hastily put on. She’s no master of reading emotions, but Minerva is excellent at spotting liars, and the grin on Camilla’s face oozes dishonestly from every corner. 

“Are you alright, Camilla?” She’s genuinely concerned. In the year or so since they both joined the Order, Minerva has flown countless missions with the Nohrian princess by her side. She found her exceptionally difficult at first, overbearing in peacetime and erratic in combat, but time has dulled those edges, and Minerva considers her a friend now. It has, of course, nothing to do with Maria’s urging that she be more social. Nor Palla’s.

They’ve gone through this song and dance before, and Minerva knows the next step by heart. Camilla will brush her off, giggle, and make some sort of innuendo. Then it will be her turn to scoff and end the tangent. However, Camilla breaks the rules.

“I’m still me, Minerva.”

One of Minerva’s eyebrows quirks up.

“That’s not what I asked. Are you alright?”

Camilla chuckles, empty laughter that drowns in the air. “Persistent tonight. I’m just thinking about the past.” Her eyes never meet Minerva’s, instead unfocusing and staring into the inky depths of the lake. One of her hands gently edges out and starts to swirl a finger in the water.

Trying to channel Caeda, Minerva slowly sits down next to the silent Nohrian. She’s not very good at this sort of thing, but she will try.

“Is it something you’d like to talk about?”

Camilla’s smile weakens, now almost imperceptible. “Normally I’d say no, of course. But you’re...you’re nearly family now.”

Minerva almost wants to object, but thinks better of it. Family is a near-sacred concept in Macedon, and as much as she respects Camilla, the words aren’t yet comfortable with her. Still, she doesn’t want to miss this chance to learn more about her companion.

“Have I told you about the way I grew up, Minerva?” None of the usual teasing is in her voice, replaced with a thick sense of unease. Minerva shakes her head. “My father was the King of Nohr, of course, but my mother was not the queen. Garon had many, many concubines and mistresses, and for a long time, no legitimate wife.” Camilla’s eyes darken at the word “legitimate”, Minerva notices.

“I’ve met several of your siblings. Are there more?”

It’s an innocent question, but Minerva can almost see Camilla flinch at it.

“Well, dear...this lake reminds me of one of them. Can I tell you about Helen?” Her lips curl into a halfhearted grin. “It’s not a happy story, so if it’ll keep you awake, I’ll hold my tongue.”

Minerva shakes her head. “I’m an adult, Camilla. Let’s hear it.”

Camilla throws her hair back, eyes focused on the moon now. “Very well, darling. If you don’t mind scary stories.”

Helen was three years older than Camilla, and for a long time, the younger princess idolized her. Everything from her delicate hands to her refined movements looked as if they were ripped from a storybook. She was kind to everyone, from the nobles to the servants, and especially to Camilla, which was all a ten-year old could really ask for. She didn’t understand why her mother hated Helen so much.

Mother wasn’t kind to the nobles or the servants, and especially not to Camilla. But she was clever, people had always told her, and she kept her daughter safe. Even at this age, Camilla knew the capital was a dangerous place. Every smile had a shadow, and in every shadow hid a blade. Things were only more dangerous for Camilla as a princess, because she wasn’t officially considered one yet. Many young princes and princesses crowded into the empire, sons and daughters of concubines, nobles, foreign dignitaries and charlatans. Only two had yet been declared legitimate, Royal Prince Xander and the young Royal Prince Leo. The others were left to struggle in what would later be referred to as the “Concubine Wars”, a silent conflict fought in alleys and ballrooms, with whispers and rumors tucked amongst knives and garrotes.

Camilla’s mother, Lady Oleen, was rightfully feared, as a former wyvern rider-turned concubine. Her rivals were cautious of her, but luckily, not nearly as much of her daughter. That was so often their downfall.

It was a clear day when Princess Helen offered to take Camilla away from the drudgery of training and deceit, just for a while. The sun rarely shone on Nohr, but the brightness of the moon illuminated the lake outside of Windmire beautifully.

“Come on, dear! We’re almost there!”

Giggling, Camilla hiked up her skirts and fought to keep pace with Helen’s longer legs, following dutifully towards the retreat they used so often. Beneath the tree with deep green leaves and next to the bushes of beautiful black roses, the castle and their tyrannical mothers seemed so far away. After Helen undid the bun in her hair, she hurled the stray cloth into the lake, smiling victoriously as it floated away.

“Ugh, I hate having it up like that. I’m so jealous that your mother lets you keep yours down, Cam!”

Camilla giggled, running a hand through her lavender locks. “She says I can keep it if it doesn’t get dirty, so I take really good care of it! But I like yours better. Red’s my favorite color!”

Helen laughed. “You told me it was blue last month!”

“I changed it!”

Perhaps that wasn’t a very mature thing to do, but Camilla was ten, and still had, she thought, at least three more years before she had to act like an adult. Maybe even four.

“Did anyone catch you sneaking out, Cam?”

Camilla shook her head. “Nope! Mother hired me a new trainer and he’s so old, he sleeps all the time! I just walked right past him!” Helen laughed at that, shaking her newly released hair free until it spilled across her face. It wasn’t a very princess-like thing to do, Camilla thought, but getting to see the girl she had so long idolized break loose was somehow just as fulfilling. She shook her head too, despite the fact that she didn’t need to, and beamed up at her companion. Helen returned the smile.

“So, how was your day today?” Helen was looking up at the sky now, admiring the way the stars twinkled in the distance. “Did you get to do anything fun?”

“Mother let me ride a wyvern again! I think I’m almost ready to start flying alone.”

“Doesn’t it scare you?” Helen’s eyes widened. “Being up that high on a lizard, I mean. I’d be terrified to fall off.”

Camilla didn’t get scared. At least, not of silly things like heights.

“No. Not anymore.”

“Where do you want to go on your wyvern, Camilla?” Helen reached into her satchel and began to rifle around.

“Hmm. I’d like to defend Nohr, of course. That would make Mother proud. But I also kind of want to see what else is out there, you know? Mokushu, Cheve, Hoshido...you could go anywhere on a wyvern!”

Camilla was a curious child at heart. She knew Helen was as well.

Two packed sandwiches dropped from Helen’s hands as the older girl smiled down. “I think that’s a wonderful goal! When you go, do you think I could come with you?”

“Of course!”

Helen chuckles as they each unwrap their lunches, both starting to tear away at them. Back at home Camilla’s every bite was critiqued by her mother or a servant, often grabbing at her hands to reposition them in accordance with some bizarre rule about silverware or another, but out on these trips, she could ignore all that. As the young Camilla chomped at the meal, scarfing it down like she hadn’t eaten in days, Helen simply giggled.

“Oh, Camilla! Slow down! You’ll choke, silly!”

“Sorry!” Camilla replied, her mouth still full of bread. The older girl shook her head and reached into her bag once more, making “tsk” sounds with her tongue. With practiced, courtlike grace, she retrieved a small flask from the bag, shaking it gently before Camilla’s eyes.

“Here. I snuck a little ale from the guard outpost before we left. It ought to help wash it down, don’t you think?”

With a nod, Camilla took the flask, cradling it gently in her smooth hands. She uncapped the flask, sniffed it lightly, and stood.

“Thanks! But I don’t like ale! I’m gonna go get some water from the lake!”

The young girl sprinted towards the glimmering lake, a laughing Helen quickly rising in pursuit.

“Cam, no! It’s not clean!”

The two princesses of Nohr raced around the waterside, padding through dampened dirt and scattered pebbles, knocking debris into the serene surface of the lake. Camilla finally dropped to her knees near the lake and suddenly let out a piercing scream.

“Camilla?” Helen kneeled next to her, following the younger girl’s eyeline to the water.

There was nothing there. Her reflection stared back up at her, seemingly just as confused within the depths of the water. The Camilla that looked back up from the water, though, seemed very different. The joy that so often lit up her face was gone. There seemed to be no emotion at all.

A pair of hands seized the back of Helen’s hair and plunged her head into the lake. Quickly, she began to struggle, thrusting her neck back and trying to breach for air, but the grip was strong. So strong she could barely believe it was from a ten-year old. She kicked at Camilla, tried to dig her knees into the rocky beach, but the pain was getting further and further away as her eyes stung beneath the lake.

Above, Camilla had her eyes squeezed shut, operating purely on instinct and thinking of home.

This was what Mother had asked.

This was what Mother wanted.

When she opened her eyes, Helen wasn’t moving any longer. Camilla gathered up her belongings, taking another sniff of the flask-too sweet, as she’d expected-and fighting back the strange feeling in her gut. With one more heave, she pushed the rest of Helen’s body into the lake and watched as it floated towards the river.

This would make Mother love her.

With a sigh, Camilla withdraws her hand from the water, shaking the moisture away. “They never found the body.”

Minerva’s jaw is clenched and her heart is pounding. “Camilla, that’s...that’s horrible to hear.”

Her wingmate nods, calmly, as if the discussion is about tea or the weather. “Isn’t it? It wasn’t my first, or my last. Only one of us could survive those days, and I made sure it was me. No matter what it took, Minerva.”

Her mouth feels dry. She doesn’t respond.

“I know how terrible it was. If you want to think me a monster, darling, you may. I’ve been called worse.”

“Your mother was the monster.” Minerva feels all semblance of royal tact slip from her grasp. “Turning you into her pawn, using you to kill children. You had no choice, Camilla.”

Camilla nods again, still focused on the water below.

“You must feel awful.” Minerva mutters.

Camilla turns, and Minerva is taken back by the expression on her face. Complete passivity. Typically her wingmate was either bursting with joy or fuming with anger, with occasional breaks for explosive rage, but Camilla looks absolutely neutral. Like a corpse.

“I wish I did, dear.” She frowns slightly. “You’d think I would cry. Cry for Helen, cry for the others, cry for myself. But I can’t. I just...can’t, Minerva. I never have.” She splashes the water again. “I built walls, darling. And now they don’t come down.” Camilla chuckles, a deep and empty sound, as if coming from a vacant hall. “Still think Mother is the only monster?”

Minerva frowns and sits down, peering into the lake herself. She can see the moon reflected high above them, illuminating the silent scene.

“You didn’t enjoy it. You don’t seem to want to do it again.” Minerva inhales sharply. “I’ve also done things I regret for someone I love.”

“But you can feel that regret, can’t you?” Camilla’s voice lilts towards anger. “You aren’t broken. Not like I am.”

Minerva grimaces. “That’s not-”

Camilla chuckles again, the same mirthless sound. “Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not trying to throw myself a pity party. I just wanted to warn you about who you may be getting close to. That’s it.”

The plains are silent as the last echoes of Camilla’s words fade. Both princesses are now looking at the lake’s surface in silence, Minerva’s gauntlet dipping inside for just a moment.

“I’d tell you I understand, but I think we’re past the time for lies, Camilla.” Minerva’s voice is firm, but absent of malice or anger. “I can’t fathom what you’ve been through in the past, or maybe what you’ve done, but I can judge the person I see right now.”

Her eyes lock with Camilla’s, and Minerva doesn’t only see emptiness anymore.

“Broken, perhaps. But no monster. Carry yourself with more pride, Princess of Nohr. I’m proud to call you my wingmate.”

Camilla smiles, not the usual wide grin or teasing smirk, but a tiny upturn at the edges of her lips, nearly imperceptible in the dim moonlight.

“Thank you.”

Minerva nods, and for another stretch of time they both simply sit, the cool night air blowing across the lake as the waterfall gurgles in the distance.

“I’m going to get back to sleep.” Minerva stands, hesitating for a moment. “Will you be alright?”

Camilla nods. “I will. Goodnight, Minerva.”

“Goodnight.”

Minerva walks away, leaving Camilla in the quiet night. 

She almost swears she hears a list of names begin to fall from her lips and into the water below.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm sorry that was...uh...the way it was!
> 
> I originally wrote this piece for Fire Emblem Gen Week two months ago, but decided not to post it then because I'd been writing so much sad stuff. Now that I've written the fluffiest Luck of the Draw chapter to date, my guilt is assuaged enough to drop this.
> 
> Camilla isn't a character I had particular attachment to while playing Fates. Like a lot of people, I found her somewhat grating and very fanservicey. That said, her implied backstory is absolutely heartwrenching, and I truly believe that, were it explored more in game, she could have been an absolutely fantastic character.
> 
> When I started writing her for Broken Blade, I began to really enjoy her interactions with Minerva, and that only continued when I wrote "Shine Above The Snow" for Solrosfalt's amazing "Princess Of Dawn". I really love the idea of stoic, serious Minerva and her bestie, Camilla "the most extra in Askr" FireEmblem. They share a theme of being driven by wanting to do whatever it takes to keep their loved ones safe, so I wanted to expand on that.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this story. Feedback is always welcome!


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